


Portrait of a man

by MaethorialBelle



Series: Tumblr fics, prompts and drabbles [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5140484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaethorialBelle/pseuds/MaethorialBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maerwynne draws Cullen in an intimate moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Portrait of a man

_I am painting in oil_

_the portrait of a man_

_who has taken all the heartache_

_and all the pain he can stand_

* * *

 

“I must admit, when you asked me to join you in taking a bath I had expected you to be in it as well.” Cullen dragged his fingers back and forth through the water, his bared skin soaked and satin to the touch. He couldn't be certain of which concoction Maerwynne had added to make his muscles melt and stubborn knots unfurl, though he could certainly get used to the honey smell; to his flesh feeling as though every inch had been blessed by his lover’s silken caress.  

“Perhaps if you kept still for longer than a second I might have joined you by now.” Maerwynne’s solemn frown was a poor disguise for the smile buried beneath her words. Still, it had managed to steal Cullen’s attention way from the comforting heat and familiar scent.

“Have you almost finished?” He watched as she rubbed a little harder at the parchment resting on a book in her lap, watched as she noticed her blackened finger but not the smudge of charcoal speared across her throat and the freckles on her cheek.

She’d yet to answer him. _Silence has a voice of its own_ her mother used to say. Well, Maerwynne hoped her stilled tongue was telling her love to let her concentrate on her sketch, to let her commit every wonderful part of him to parchment so that he might see himself as she did. Perhaps he’d even learn to love himself with all the fervour that she loved him; realising his worth with every trace of his hesitant fingers over each lovingly drawn line. If a picture was worth a thousand words, then she hoped this one was rich in “I love you’s.”

 Maerwynne ghosted her own fingers across Cullen’s chest, no match for the real thing, and the hair dusted across it. She let them linger on the trail between his toned abdomen that lead her hand down, _down_ , to skim the sketched water where her memories had to fill in what lay beneath. She couldn’t drag her eyes away, not from pride or artistic scrutiny, no. There was something so intimate, so specifically special that she just couldn’t name about drawing Cullen naked and bare; perhaps because his flesh wasn’t the only thing laid willingly before her. 

When Maerwynne had asked, with hidden nerves,  if she could immortalise this moment, Cullen had answered without doubt; if he’d wondered why he’d done well not to ask. She had been grateful for his consent, for too many nights of stolen moments where she’d chart the planes of his face secretly, hurriedly, had begun to burden her with guilt. Though now she had his permission, had the memory of his smirk as she’d shown him her previous works, the ones of him, and his compliments of her talent. 

“ _Maker._ ”

Maerwynne lifted her eyes to where her lover lay sighing, and though the water concealed many sins, the rhythmic motion of his arm, the bliss written across a taut brow left crumbs of clues as to just what he was up to beneath the surface.

“Got bored did you?”

Cullen didn’t halt his movements, didn’t open his eyes or stumble over an apology; he just smiled, the one reserved for her in quiet moments that soon turned to hours as their bodies intertwined.

“Pardon me for interrupting,” she teased, “but I think this drawing might be my favourite one yet. Would you like to see it?”

Cullen’s eyes fell on her immediately, his motions stopping as he sat him self straight. “Of course I would,” he held his opened palm out to her, his arm resting on the rim of the tub as droplets gathered on the floor below.

Maerwynne ignored the creeping chill that bit at her once she stood, the roaring fire unable to warm her pebbled skin covered in nothing but a thin nightdress; that had been one of Cullen’s shirt once upon a time. She held the drawing against her chest, away from any stray splashes, once she stood close enough. Cullen’s cold caress on the back of her thigh a shock to her shivering skin; though it served well to warm other parts already heated from anticipation. “So, what do you think? Have I ruined your good opinion of me forever?” Maerwynne bit down on the urge to jerk away from the threat of his damp hand that rose tentatively towards her art; biting down harder on her relief as he let his touch fall to her thigh once more.

“It’s…hmm.”

She didn’t know what his hum was supposed to signify, didn’t understand the narrowing of his eyes or the tilt of his head. Usually she’d be able to tell what every gesture, no matter how small, spoke for; but right then doubt wouldn’t let her believe that any movement meant anything other than _he hates it._ “You needn’t feel bad, if you don’t like it just say so. I won’t be offended, _much_.” 

Cullen’s scoff made faint ripples dance across the waters surface. “It’s - you are - incredible.” His smile slipped into something smaller, softer, his voice following suit. “It’s just odd seeing myself like this. I look-”

“Handsome? Irresistible ? Like you’re not doing naughty things beneath the water?” Maerwynne laced her fingers through his hair, made all the curlier by the moistened air.

“Content,” Cullen clarified, “it’s a feeling I’m still getting used to; though it’s even stranger to be able to see myself looking so at ease.” 

All Maerwynne’s doubts shattered at his words, at his inability to tear his tender gaze away from his likeness. “Thank you for allowing me to do this Cullen.” 

He grinned as he leant up to her, waiting for a kiss with a whisper of her name; his siren’s call to lure her into the water with him. “You’re welcome, thank you for enabling me to do so.” 

Maerwynne kissed him again, humming a muffled chuckle against his mouth. “Oh? You mean you wouldn't let just any woman draw you in varying states of undress?” She stepped out of his, steadily warming, touch; hoping that humour might rid her of the desire to jump in with him, drawing be damned.

Cullen raised a blonde brow at her. “I can’t say that I would. Not unless she were _exceptionally_ skilled.”

“That’s a shame,” Maerwynne sighed as she tip-toed hurriedly towards her clutter-covered desk, “I know Sera’s a fan of doodling; not that I think she’d want to see you naked.” She looked for a, relatively, empty space to put her masterpiece, her free hand battling with stale leftovers and overdue reports that lay in her way.

Cullen craned his neck toward her after too many heartbeats of wordless shuffling. “Had you planned on joining me today?” 

“No, actually.” She made her way to the fireplace, her eyes fixed on his back as she passed, lingering on the red-raw marks that she still felt guilty for putting there; despite Cullen’s endearment to them. “I’ve nothing to change into when I get out, and I’m already cold enough as it is.”

The chuckle that rumbled through Cullen’s chest made a welcome heat pool in her belly, though it wasn’t quite hot enough to still her quivering. “If you were to join me then I might be able to help with that.”

 _Tempting_ a small voice said, the devil on her shoulder that cared nothing for useless days spent in bed with a fever that threatened to rise forever _._ She shook the thought away with the shiver that shuddered her shoulders _,_ “It’s not getting _in_ that bothers me.” Maerwynne turned at the sound of sloshing water, at the slap of bare feet on stone. “What are you doing?” She asked as her commander strolled to her, wearing a sinful smirk and not much else.

He opened his towel in invitation once he stood opposite her, the flames engulfing his body in a warm glow that cast shadows across his sculpted chest. “Warming you up, unless you’d rather I didn’t?” 

Maerwynne had never been one for games, for leaving bait un taken. She crushed herself against his chest without grace, uncaring of her dampening shirt or the way her wild waves stuck to his skin. He smelt so sweet, so unlike himself and so like _her_ it was maddening; the only time she liked to smell herself on him was when the scent of her sex lingered on his tounge. She kissed at his neck, nibbled and sucked, trying to steal the sweetness away, to get him flustered and sweating and salty to the taste.

“Is there anything else you’ve a mind to draw?” Cullen’s voice had fallen to a hushed purr, his appreciation of her effects hard and hot between them.

Maerwynne was slow to answer, the touch of her lips to his rising pulse tantalising and hard to let go of. “You know, I would like to draw us making love.”

His fingers traced nonsensical pattens against her thighs, his touch feather-light and rising further toward her core with every swirl. “That may prove to be a little more challenging.”

“I don’t doubt it, but are you up for it commander?”

Cullen pulled her closer, his hands full of her as his eyes fell on the mirror behind them, a smirk tugging at his lips with each new idea reflected back at him. ” _Always_.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title and lyrics at the start are from the song "portait of a man" by Screamin' Jay Hawkins


End file.
